


Two Years, Two Years, and Two Days

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Basically PWP, Gauda Prime What Gauda Prime?, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the kink meme prompt: <i>Gauda Prime AU. Avon calls Blake, rather than just crashing into his base.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Years, Two Years, and Two Days

“All right, Orac,” Avon said, having checked furtively that the coast was clear and that none of the rest of the Scorpio crew were about to walk in on him. “Have you managed to make any progress… on Operation Figurehead?”

“ _If_ you are referring to your request that I find and locate Roj Blake-”

Avon rolled his eyes. Although the computer was generally far more useful, sometimes working with Orac reminded him a lot of working with Vila. “That is what Operation Figurehead refers to, yes. Well? Is there any progress?”

“No,” Orac said, and Avon’s heart fell. “I completed that programme several weeks ago,” Orac continued. “Blake has been located, and my circuits are now engaged on other matters.”

“What?” Avon said dangerously.

“If you would confine your requests for any future requirements-”

“You haven’t completed _this_ requirement,” Avon said through gritted teeth. “You were supposed to find and locate Blake, _then_ inform me as to your findings.”

“I have now done so.”

“You’ve informed me that you’ve found him, I agree. But you have spectacularly failed to mentioned several rather crucial pieces of information, including _where_ you found him and what he’s doing there.”

Orac gave a sound like sigh. “I am much too busy to devote any more time to this conversation,” it said irritably. “If you require the information, you must go straight to the primary source. I will now connect you to Roj Blake-”

“What?” Avon said.

“Please turn your attention to the primary monitor in this room.”

“No, no, no,” Avon said. “Orac-! _Argh_.”

This hadn’t been the plan at all. He’d wanted time to plan the best possible reunion with Blake - something that would make him look cool and assured, successful in Blake’s absence, but he could see the picture Orac was producing on the screen already forming. With only seconds in which to act, he checked his teeth in the shiny surface of the radar screen, smoothed back his hair, and then tried to lounge nonchalantly against the teleport desk. A superior smirk would probably be best, if he could manage it. Was this his best jacket? Never mind, it was too late for that. He’d just have to bluff it out.

The primary monitor now showed another man and what was probably the back of Blake’s head. They were standing together in a room that looked like some sort of office, and Blake’s curls were longer now and more defined than they had been on the Liberator, though they were also dirtier. Blake was wearing one of his characteristic loose-sleeved shirts, under a waistcoat. The other man was more smartly dressed. He had red hair and a worried expression that seemed to grow more worried as he caught sight of Avon on his own monitor.

“Are you… expecting a call, bounty hunter?”

Blake turned around, and whatever he’d been expecting to see it wasn’t Avon. His mouth dropped open, and he staggered backwards in shock. “What the-?” he began, and at the same time Avon said,

“What happened to your face _,_ Blake?”

As well as being horribly dirty, Blake’s face was disfigured by a massive scar over his eye. At the back of Avon’s mind, it occurred to him that he’d already abandoned his cool, casual pose, and the conversation had barely begun. But Orac hadn’t warned him. It hadn’t said anything at all. There was no way he could have been prepared for this, any of this.

“And you’re a _bounty hunter?”_ Avon continued.

“No. That is not the case,” Orac said from behind him. “The bounty hunter pose is a deception, practiced by Roj Blake in order bring in new recruits for his undercover army.”

Blake sighed. “Well, thank you for completely destroying my cover. Fortunately Deva and I are on the same side.”

“You _are_ sure about that?” the other man said, and Blake glanced back and grinned at him.

“I certainly hope so.”

Avon’s eyes narrowed at the easy camaraderie. It was too friendly, surely. What were they to each other? Perhaps it was nothing. Blake had been friendly with Jenna in much the same way, and they had never, as far as Avon knew, been anything _other_ than friends. Had they reunited after they’d both left the Liberator? Was Jenna in the same place that Blake and Deva were? Again he inwardly cursed Orac for pushing him, unprepared, into this conversation with the man Avon had spent the last two years looking for and a stranger who now knew that man as well if not better than Avon did.

“What _happened_ to you, Blake?” he demanded, because he couldn’t remember now whether he’d ever wanted to ask anything else at their reunion. “What the _hell_ happened to you?”

Blake’s face grew wary. “Deva, would you mind checking that Orac is the only computer who might be able to hack into our private communication feeds?”

“There is no-” Orac began, but Avon pulled out the key before it could finish. The sound of the computer’s voice fizzled away before Orac could tell them all that they were idiots to even _suppose_ that any other computer in the universe could do what it had done in a matter of moments.

“Ah, of course,” Deva said. “Yes, I think that sounds like a very practical suggestion, and not at all like an attempt to get me to leave the room. I’ll just do that now, shall I?”

He smiled, and let himself out. That left Blake alone in the office on wherever he was, and Avon alone in the teleport area on Xenon base. They were alone.

“Well?” Avon said.

He watched as Blake settled himself on the edge of the office’s desk, his hands braced on either side of his body. Every part of him ached for Blake to tell him something that would make it all make sense. He could feel himself trembling in the face of Blake’s calmness.

“This,” Blake said, indicating the scar, “happened when I crash landed on Ephron. As for the rest?” He shrugged. “What can I say, Avon? You didn’t want me to come back.”

“No,” Avon said. “No, that isn’t right.”

“It _is_ what happened,” Blake said.

“I did,” Avon told him.

“I’m sorry?” Blake said.

“I wanted you to come back,” Avon said. No, that was only _almost_ the truth. He forced himself to continue. “I… _want_ you to come back.”

Blake looked as undone as he had in the middle of the empty room that had failed to house the Central Control computer.

“What?” he said quietly, and took a step towards the camera.

“Not that there’s very much to come back to,” Avon continued, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. It still hurt too much to think about what had happened on Terminal. “But you can have Vila, I suppose. And Orac, if it’s worth anything to you.”

“What about you?” Blake asked.

“Ah. Well, that goes without saying,” Avon agreed.

Blake was still staring at him. “Since _when_?” he said.

“From the very beginning,” Avon said - echoing the final words Blake had said to him before they’d been separated all those months ago. He’d known what Blake was saying was important at the time, of course, but he’d thought he would have time to respond later. He needed time, he’d thought then, to digest what Blake had told him about their relationship. He’d had no idea that they wouldn’t get to talk again until this moment. If he had done, he would have told Blake the truth immediately. The time they’d been separated was now full of so many regrets, but that was the first and in some ways the greatest. He’d never said that he trusted Blake, and loved him more than life itself. And so Blake had spent almost two years believing that Avon not only didn’t care, but also wanted him gone forever.

Blake was rubbing at his eyes now with thumb and forefinger, effectively covering his face. “ _Avon-”_ he said, sounding disappointed and tired.

“I also have a good pilot, an acceptable ship, and two gunfighters - one of whom is also an inventor,” Avon continued, trying not to sound desperate. “I have a base-”

“How far away is it from Gauda Prime?” Blake said, interrupting him.

“That’s where you are, is it?” Avon asked, and Blake nodded. “Orac didn’t say. I have no idea, though I could find out. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m trying to work out how long I have to wait until I can kiss you,” Blake said, and Avon felt relief flood through him. He could barely remember the last time he’d felt happy, rather than wryly amused but with the expectation of disaster to come. It felt like he’d taken a drink from one of Vila’s concoctions, and all his rational objections to the universe had been drugged out of him.

“I have a stardrive,” he told Blake.

Blake laughed, and it was the same laugh that Avon remembered from the Liberator and creased his unscarred eye the same way it always had.

“You really _don’t_ need to offer me anything else, Avon.”

“That’s good, because I don’t have anything else. I just meant that, however long you think it will take, I can probably get there faster. Where is Gauda Prime?”

“Sector eight. One of the frontier worlds.”

Avon thought about this briefly with the part of his mind that wasn’t distracted by the sight of Blake on his comms monitor biting impatiently on the edge of his hand, and the idea of Blake kissing him.

“Two days,” he decided.

“Too long,” Blake growled.

“I’ll see what I can do to shorten the trip - What sort of time did you have in mind?”

“I can probably wait about ten minutes,” Blake said. “After that, I want to be tearing your clothes off and wondering where the lubricant is.”

Avon tried not to visibly squirm in front of the camera, but his trousers suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. “Well, now you’ll have two days to find it, won’t you?”

“Two days of only _imagining_ you speared on my cock-”

“Two days,” Avon agreed, with a shudder. “And given that it’s likely to be two days, I need you not to say anything like that again, Blake, until we’re in the same place at the same time. I’m frustrated enough as it is. I don’t need your lurid descriptions.”

“ _Lurid_?” Blake said.

“All right, relatively restrained descriptions,” Avon conceded. “But since they’re effectively driving me out of my mind, it seems pointless to argue semantics. In fact, I should probably get started on a series of cold showers and stardrive modulations now.”

“Not yet,” Blake said firmly. “It’s been two years – and I think I’m significantly more interesting than either of those alternatives.”

“I won’t be able to concentrate on even a half way decent conversation,” Avon told him.

“Don’t worry,” Blake said. “What I’m suggesting isn’t even slightly decent.”

“And… what _are_ you suggesting?”

“Open your trousers,” Blake said in a low rumble.

“…Now?” Avon asked.

“ _Now_.”

Blake held his gaze, his eyes dark and intense on the comms screen, the look the same one he’d used to get Avon to teleport into Federation bases with him, and back down in arguments Avon knew he should have won. He’d found it erotic then, too, but it was far more so now.

It could be a trick, of course. Blake could be about to laugh at him as soon as his trousers were around his ankles, but he trusted Blake as much as Blake had once claimed to trust him. And he wanted Blake, and he wanted release from the overpowering arousal that was clouding his mind and distracting his body, and if Blake wanted to watch, he definitely wanted that too.

“All right,” he said slowly. Without looking away from Blake’s hungry expression, he reached down to undo the button at the top of his trousers. His fingers felt stiff and awkward, but he managed to pull the zip down, the sound of the teeth splitting apart seeming loud and intensely distracting in the silence with Blake’s eyes on him.

He pushed himself away from the desk so he could work his trousers and his underwear down more easily. His cock was already fully hard. Avon wrapped an unsteady hand around himself and felt his nerves fire, as though it were Blake’s hand on him, as he began stroking himself. His mouth dropped open, as he fought to keep his breathing steady. _Slowly_ , he told himself, even though every fibre of his being cried out for him to go quickly and put an end to the delicious torment he was subjecting himself to. But Blake would want him to go slowly, so that he could enjoy the experience properly. Avon ran his hand up his shaft and back down again, squeezing himself slightly less tightly than he would have done if he were alone. He needed to draw it out.

“Get back on the desk,” Blake said in the same loaded tone as before.

Avon raised his eyebrows. He had the vague idea that climbing onto the desk would make him look ridiculous, and he would have to let go of himself to do it. But if Blake insisted, he would do it.

“I can’t see you properly,” Blake explained. “I can only see you’re enjoying yourself, whatever you’re doing.”

Ah. That was a good enough reason to do as Blake said, although he knew he would have done it eventually even if Blake hadn’t had a good reason. The metal of the desk was cold under his arse, but Blake’s eyes had dropped down his body and Avon knew Blake was looking at his cock, and that was why Blake was biting his lip and why Blake’s right hand had drifted down to the crotch of his own trousers.

“Like what you see?” Avon enquired archly.

“I’d like it even more if I could touch it.”

“Two days,” Avon told him. He let his eyelashes flicker shut as he closed his hand around himself again and began to move it. Blake let out a frustrated groan. “Two days until I land in your base, Blake, and you can begin to show me around: introduce me to your friends, show me the computer facilities-”

“You’re joking,” Blake said.

“Oh really,” Avon said, bringing up his other hand to play with his balls. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“You’ll arrive,” Blake said firmly, “and after a few perfunctory and, above all, _brief_ pleasantries, I’m going to kiss you in front of everyone we both know, and drag you off to my room - protesting loudly all the way, of course.”

“Of course,” Avon said. Blake’s voice was heaven, rich and dark and commanding. He wanted Blake to continue talking, so he said, “What will you be wearing?”

“A white shirt,” Blake said. “Open at the neck.” Avon murmured his approval, and let his hand tighten on his cock. “And you?”

“This jacket,” Avon said. “I want… I want the first thing you think of when you see me to be what’s happening right now.” He licked his hand so it would be able to move more slickly, and returned to pumping his cock.

“That, ah, seems fairly likely,” Blake said. Avon cracked his eyes open at the sound of Blake’s breath hitching, and saw that Blake’s hand was now inside his trousers and jerking quickly on what looked like a substantial erection.

“Though _why_ you think I won’t be desperate enough already-” Blake said wryly.

Avon grinned, eyes closed again. “You could always be more desperate, Blake.”

“At this rate I won’t be able to wait while you remove your clothes.”

“Not a problem,” Avon said. “I’ll take off my jacket; you - ah - deal with my trousers-”

“You’re going to let me fuck you?”

“I’m going to _demand_ you fuck me,” Avon told him, rolling his balls in his left hand and wondering whether he should try and push a finger into his arse. “ _I’m_ rather desperate too. And I’ve brought extra lubricant in case you haven’t found it yet-”

“No, I _have_ found it,” Blake said. “I’m not that useless. I’ll use it to open you up - ready you for myself, while you-”

“I’ll be slicking your cock for you,” Avon said. “Your, mm, very impressive, very large cock. To save time, of course.”

“No, that’s too distracting.”

“Really? You don’t seem to mind.”

“ _You_ will, if I come in your hand, rather than your arse.”

Avon gasped, his hands clenching on his cock as he thrust up into them. For some reason he hadn’t realised just how much he liked the idea of Blake coming inside him, but clearly he liked it a lot.

“All right, I’ll keep my hands off you,” he agreed. “For now.”

“You _can_ touch yourself,” Blake told him.

“ _Mm_ ,” Avon purred, drawing his hands down slowly and arching his back, pushing his hips up so that his cock would be more visible. “You like this, do you?”

“Oh yes,” Blake said. “Yes, Avon, yes-”

His voice sounded desperate and harsh, and Avon recognised that he must be near his climax. He was close himself, his head filling with white noise, but behind all that there was Blake, watching him wanking and getting off on it.

“ _Blake_ ,” he said sharply. “Put your cock in me quickly. Do it now – _now_ , Blake, before you come-“

“Oh god,” Blake groaned. “You’re so tight, Avon. So tight, so perfect, so- God, you’re so-”

Avon opened his eyes in time to see Blake coming, bent almost in half - one hand clenched on the edge of the desk he was leaning against. Then Avon closed his eyes, and Blake was above him and in him, and it was Blake’s hand that had found the sensitive spot under Avon’s foreskin and Blake's hand that triggered his orgasm. _Oh Blake,_ Avon thought. _Oh, oh – oh god._

In the rich satisfaction before he opened his eyes again, Avon imagined licking his own come off Blake’s chest. He imagined Blake laughing and trying to get away, and absent-mindedly telling Avon that he loved him in amongst the threats if he didn’t stop it and entreaties for him to stop it and go lower.

When he did open his eyes, he was sitting half-naked on a desk in the teleport area of Xenon base, and Blake was watching him fondly and chewing on the edge of one of his nails.

“How long did you say it would take to get here again?” Blake asked.

Avon rolled his eyes. “Two days,” he said, and then he grinned. “But I can always call you again from the ship, can’t I?”

*

They landed smoothly, Blake’s forces having held off the Federation’s gun ships long enough for Scorpio to get through the Gauda Prime blockade. Avon had been given directions, and all the access codes to get into Blake’s base. The hanger doors opened wide enough to let Tarrant steer the entire ship inside, and stewards waved them down. Slave operated the external doors, and lowered the ramp. Avon left his gun behind.

A pleasant-faced woman met them at the entrance to the base. “Welcome to GP,” she told them. "I’m Klyn, and I know who all of you are, of course. This way please. There are drinks laid out in the tracking gallery.”

“This is a trap, isn’t it?” Vila said mournfully. “Nothing ever goes this well for us.”

“Oh, have a little faith, Vila,” Dayna said. “I’m sure Avon knows what he’s doing.”

“We’re all going to die,” Vila said, ignoring the glare Avon shot in his direction. “I knew it. I _knew_ I shouldn’t have got out of bed today.”

“Stop whining,” Soolin said.

“Hear, hear,” Tarrant added.

They arrived in what must have been the tracking gallery. There were indeed a variety of drinks arranged on one of the monitoring stations, but Blake was suspiciously absent. Avon felt his palms growing damp. He wasn’t nervous about seeing Blake, he told himself. And he didn’t think this was a trap. But where _was_ Blake? He should be here. He should be-

He looked up as Blake emerged from a doorway on the second level. The other man Avon had seen in Orac’s footage was a few steps behind Blake, clutching a clipboard to his chest, but Avon couldn’t be bothered to look at him for long. Blake was clean, and he looked years younger than he had on the camera-feed. He was wearing a loose white shirt, open at the neck, and somehow the scar looked rakish and handsome without the grime. He barely glanced at the others before his eyes settled on Avon, and he smiled.

“Is it him?” Tarrant said from behind Avon.

“It’s him,” Vila said.

“ _Blake_ ,” Avon began, and then Blake had descended the stairs and had pulled him into a kiss. Avon’s hands clutched desperately in Blake's hair as Blake pulled their bodies together, his mouth caressing Avon’s and his tongue licking at the inside of Avon’s mouth.

Behind Avon, there was the sound of Vila spitting out his drink, and Dayna said, “Oh my _god,”_ and Blake’s friend Deva said, “Really, Blake. Is this the time?”

Eventually, though, they all found other things to do, leaving Avon to concentrate on the joy of being held by Blake and making Blake twitch against him by sucking at his tongue.

“What happened to the perfunctory and brief pleasantries?” he asked when Blake finally drew back for air.

“Oh, I decided they weren’t necessary,” Blake said. “After all, I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

*

“Two days,” Avon said later as he lay, naked and content, in Blake’s arms.

“Two years,” Blake said. “And two years before that while we were both on the Liberator together.”

“All right,” Avon said, twisting his fingers in Blake's hair. “I suppose I can forgive you for almost ruining our reunion, then.”


End file.
